


two pumps raspberry

by tostitos



Series: neo coffee and tea [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:03:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tostitos/pseuds/tostitos
Summary: in which nakamoto yuta is the assistant manager at neo coffee and tea and kim dongyoung probably wasn't expecting to end up in a barista's sweatpants when he walked in for a vanilla latte with two pumps raspberry.(alternatively titled: ごゆっくりどうぞ)





	two pumps raspberry

**Author's Note:**

> never in my life did i think i would ever write nct fic but here i am  
> the japanese lines are lyrics to akb48's 'koi suru fortune cookie'. romanization makes me cringe and the lyrics aren't relevant so i left them in japanese
> 
> based on my first date with my girlfriend. the server spilled orange juice on her and i laughed the entire time because i'm a sweetheart and an angel

For as mildly uncomfortable as it is to tell people he works at a place called Neo Coffee and Tea, Yuta can't say he has any negative feelings about his job. He gets a five percent discount on everything on the menu, the hours are flexible, and his boss lets him play anything he wants over the speakers as long as it's not too vulgar.

" _恋するフォーチュンクッキー_ ," he sings loudly along to the song playing overhead, serenading the blender he just finished washing out. He's probably disturbing everyone in the shop but his boss isn't on duty and as the most senior employee behind the counter, Yuta can do whatever he wants. " _未来はそんな悪くないよ_ —"

"Hey, hey, hey," a soft voice joins in, continuing even after Yuta's voice cuts out after the first 'hey'. "I don't mean to interrupt but..."

Yuta jumps, more surprised at someone even knowing this song than at a customer catching him singing to the kitchenware. He whirls around, eyes sweeping the area behind the counter for Youngho who should be working the register but is nowhere to be seen. Lips dipping into a frown, Yuta wipes dry palms on the front of his apron and approaches the counter.

"Sorry, I didn't realize someone was waiting," he apologizes. He quickly logs into the register and smiles at the boy on the other side.

He's about Yuta's age, with hair a mild early sunset purple parted off his face and an unnervingly even stare for a guy who just joined in on an AKB48 song unprompted. A white canvas bookbag, pattered with thick black lines filled in with vivid primary colors, is slung across his shoulder and his grey flannel plus skinny black jeans held up with red suspenders get up screams peak hipster. Or art student. Maybe hipster art student.

"It's fine," the boy shakes his head, lips quirking in a way that can hardly be called a smile. "Can I get a large vanilla latte? With some raspberry syrup added in? For here." He lifts his hand, elegant fingers wrapped around an ordinary black wallet.

As he punches in the order, Yuta glances up at other boy. He wants to ask if he's into J-pop as a whole, or just AKB, or just this song. But, before he can push the words out, Youngho is slipping behind the counter, grumbling out 'Yuta, man, I love you. But can you turn this shit off?"

Yuta quickly rattles off the total to the boy fiddling with his wallet before turning to his coworker. " _だけど自分に自信ない~_ _リアクションは想像つくから_ ," he sings along, waving his arms in a half-assed version of the choreography.

He thinks he hears an amused snort hidden beneath Youngho's promise to quit, but when he turns to Hipster Art boy, the other still has on the same not-smile as he slides a solid 10,000₩ across the counter.

Yuta doesn't care about what a real smile would look like on that face. He doesn't.

-

He has made mistakes on the job before; it'd be impossible not to. They were small things: bringing an order to the wrong person, forgetting a dessert fork, easily fixable stuff. Most gripes with him were because of his taste in music or his (beautiful, wonderful, heavenly) singing.

Yuta's not the clumsy type. Usually.

So when Hipster Art boy looks up from his phone mid-laugh, a bright smile that's all straight white teeth and cute, pink gums softening his face, as Yuta sets down the tall glass filled to the brim with coffee and milk and vanilla and two pumps of raspberry, it's the sudden boom of Desiigner's Panda cutting through his blessed J-pop playlist that makes Yuta's hands shake and his grip slip and not anything else.

The latte falls in slow motion, spilling into the lap of the boy who jumps back with a gasp.

"Shit, I'm so sorry. Oh my God, I Shit." Yuta scrambles to upright the glass. He dips into a bow so low he almost slams his forehead on the small round table. "Napkins. I'll go and get some napkins."

Youngho is already halfway to the table when Yuta turns to speed walk back to the counter, a rag in his hand. He grimaces at Yuta who groans and runs a hand through his hair.

Sicheng waddles out of the back room with a mop as Yuta rounds the counter.

"Before you leave, can you bring me a thing of napkins from in there?" Yuta requests. He leans over the spot beside the blender he was singing to a long ten minutes ago, bracing his elbows on the counter and dropping his face into his palms. He hears Sicheng prop the mop against the wall and dip back into the storage room.

The door swings open again and shortly after there's a hand patting his back sympathetically. "It happens to the best of us."

Exhaling a heavy sigh, Yuta drops his hands and straightens up. "Yeah, I guess." He takes the unopened package of napkins and rips it open. Taking as many as he can in one hand, Yuta returns to the seating area.

He spots Youngho wiping down the table up against the window, the seats surrounding it empty. Looking around, he finds Hispter Art boy sitting at a table on the other side of the room, the other turning his bookbag in his hands and feeling it for damp spots.

Yuta walks up to him, setting the stack of napkins in front of him. "I'm so sorry," he apologizes again. "I didn't ruin anything, did I?"

Sitting his bag in the chair beside him, the boy plucks some sheets off the top of the napkin mountain and presses them to his legs. "No, everything's fine," he says. He doesn't sound too put off, his voice pitched up slightly to give the effect that he's okay, but Yuta knows it's fake.

"I think I have a pair of sweatpants in my bag. They're clean. You can change into them and I can run your pants to the laundromat down the street," Yuta offers, frowning apologetically at the boy who shakes his head.

"You don't have to do that. I—' He breaks off into a sigh as he focuses on drying the wetness clinging to his thighs.

"Please, I insist. It'll be uncomfortable for you to go home like that."

As the boy thinks, chewing on his bottom lip and still trying to pat down his jeans, Youngho walks over with Sicheng.

There's a rectangle of plastic in Youngho's hands and he holds it out into the space between them all. "Please accept this 5,000₩ gift card to make up for our assistant manager's incompetence."

Professionalism requires Yuta not react to that, or maybe even scold Youngho for being so casual about spilling a drink all over a customer, but professional isn't a word in Yuta's vocabulary and so he backhands Youngho in the chest so hard his own hand hurts.

Sicheng takes the gift card from Youngho and hands it to the boy who takes it with tentative fingers. "Please ignore them."

"Um, okay."

"Sicheng, could you please make him another drink and Youngho, could you make yourself useful somewhere that's not here? Thanks," Yuta orders. He tells the customer that he'll be back in a second.

While the storage room is mostly full of their stock, there is a row of lockers lining the back wall where they keep their things. Tucked in the second locker from the left is Yuta's sports bag. He planned to hit the gym after his shift and he's glad he made the decision to start working out again today after months of sitting on his ass.

He pulls out a haphazardly folded pair of grey sweatpants, lifting them to his nose to make sure they don't smell even if he knows he washed them the other day. Rolling them up properly, he leaves the back room, kicks Youngho in the ankle as he passes behind the register and returns to Hipster Art boy who blinks up at him with his huge, round eyes.

He's kind of cute. In a half bunny, half alien kind of way.

"Thanks," the boy mumbles as he takes the clothing in his hands.

"Do you know where the bathroom is?"

"Ah, yeah, I saw the sign. I'll go and change then." The boy slides out of his seat. He must feel the chill against his thighs because the corner of his mouth stretches down.

"Wait, what's your name?" Yuta asks, just barely stopping himself from reaching out and putting his hands on the boy.

"Dongyoung," is what he answers, sounding like he can't understand why it matters.

"I'm Yuta."

Dongyoung blinks once, twice and then his eyes flit down to around Yuta's heart, obviously looking at his name tag. "Yeah..."

Yuta doesn't feel stupid. He doesn't.

-

"Sicheng just put your jeans in the dryer. Said it'll take about another forty minutes," Yuta says as he slides a small, circular plate holding a warm chocolate and walnut brownie onto the table in front of Dongyoung. He pulls out the chair across from him and plops down into it unceremoniously.

Dongyoung raises an eyebrow at him, slowly pulling the glass of his new, unspilled vanilla latte away from his lips. He's got a drop clinging to his bottom lip and Yuta doesn't watch as Dongyoung catches it with his tongue.

He has a nice mouth. Objectively speaking, of course.

"Okay, but what's this?" Dongyoung asks, waving his hand at Yuta and then the brownie.

Yuta shrugs. "Peace offering."

"I didn't realize we were at war."

"I mean, I've never seen you before and if I were you, I wouldn't want to come here a second time. You're literally sitting in a barista's extra sweats." Despite the brownie being for Dongyoung, Yuta pinches a walnut off the top and pops it into his mouth. He grins widely at the frown that earns him.

With a single finger, Dongyoung drags the plate closer to him and away from Yuta. "You can't eat _my_ peace offering."

"I never said I bought it solely for you," Yuta returns, reaching out for the brownie only to have his hand slapped.

"I'm literally in your sweats," Dongyoung deadpans, using the words that just came out of Yuta's mouth. "This is the least you owe me."

Yuta's grin stretches impossibly wider at the attitude, glad the other boy was opening up to him. "But I paid to have your pants cleaned and your new drink."

"Wow, so generous," Dongyoung murmurs under his breath but his voice still carries over the sound of Ariana Grande. He picks up the brownie and breaks it perfectly in half. "Here." He holds out on half of the treat.

Smile faltering a bit with surprise, Yuta takes the brownie half between his thumb and forefinger. "Didn't think you'd actually share with me."

"I have a love-hate relationship with chocolate."

"Oh..."

Dongyoung breaks a corner off his half and places it on his tongue. "This is pretty good, though."

Yuta nods, proudly. "Thanks, I made it myself."

Dongyoung snorts but a small, genuine smile blooms on his face that he hides behind a delicate hand. "No, you didn't."

Yuta's breath doesn't catch in his chest. It doesn't.

 -

He finds out that Dongyoung is a junior at Konkuk University, studying communications with a growing interest in film photography (which is not necessarily Art Student but is still very Hipster). He finds out that he lives on a steady diet of blueberry and cream cheese bagels and that he likes trying out different local cafes. He sings at a jazz bar down by the Han River on most Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Apparently his roommate is a closet weeb and sings only idol music when they do karaoke. He doesn't really care for himself. That's a bit of a disappointment, but Yuta can't find it in himself to care too much when Dongyoung starts giggling at Yuta's mock offense.

"Yo, Yuta-chan," Youngho walks around the table, his hands on his hips. "Glad you've made your first ever friend in your life, but could you, I don't know, get back to work? Sicheng is clocking out soon."

Yuta curbs the stupid smile on his face and looks up at his coworker. He only meant to sit for a moment, but in that time he totally forgot he was still in the middle of his shift. He opens his mouth, but the sound of a glass hitting the table makes him turn around to Dongyoung.

"And as comfortable as your sweats are, you have to get my jeans," Dongyoung adds, pressing the home button on his phone to check the time.

"Yeah, I'm sure this kid is tired of you ruining his day with your presence."

"It's called 'customer service'," Yuta protests, pushing the seat back enough that he can slip out. "Something you've never heard of before, obviously."

"Okay, but at least I didn't spill a drink all over a customer today," Youngho quips back.

Yuta almost - _almost_ \- hits Youngho again but resists. He places his hand on the table next to Dongyoung's now empty cup and leans over the younger boy. "It's chill; we're friends now."

"That's a stretch," Dongyoung says and Yuta shushes him. "But I do actually need my pants. I have an evening class in two hours and I told a friend I'd meet up with them beforehand."

"Oh, yeah, right." Yuta nods his head. He didn't really think Dongyoung could stay much longer than the almost hour and a half he's already been there, but knowing the boy has to leave soon makes something in Yuta swirl uncomfortably.

Dongyoung's jeans are hot in his hands when he takes them out of the dryer and he still feels the heat on his arms when he passes them over to their owner. He busies himself with taking Dongyoung's used dishes back to the sinks while the other changes, trying to block out the invasive 'hey, asshole, ask for his number' thoughts that sound suspiciously like Youngho. And when he finishes with the dishes, he leans against the counter beside register and plays with the plastic edges of the menu they keep there.

He sees Dongyoung come around the corner, the other boy adjusting his suspenders that he clipped back on. Dongyoung smiles lightly when he glances up and they lock eyes and Yuta lets out a soft exhale.

"Thanks again," Dongyoung says as he returns the sweatpants, neatly folded like they are in stores.

Yuta shakes his head, pushing them off to the side for the moment. "No problem. It was—"

The sound of Adele's smooth 'hello, it's me," line cuts him off and Dongyoung digs his phone out of his pocket. "Sorry," he apologizes while looking down at his phone, his fingers moving quick across the screen, presumably responding to a message.

_Ask for his number, you idiot._

"Um, Do—"

A tiny bell jingles when the door opens and two girls walk into the coffee shop. Dongyoung moves out of the way to allow them to walk up to the register and Yuta's welcoming smile is more strained than anything at being interrupted. As the barista keys in the order for a caramel macchiato and a hot chocolate, Dongyoung calls his name.

Yuta looks over at him and Dongyoung motions toward the door and mouths his goodbye.

Yuta isn't disappointed. He's not.

-

"Hey, Yuta, I know you just walked in, but can you take this vanilla latte out for me?" Sicheng asks as he tosses a mixing cup into the sink and grabs a clean one.

Yuta doesn't even have his apron tied but he picks up the cold glass and walks out into the seating area, trusting Sicheng to handle the order of seven different coffees a pitiful intern just came in with.

"Vanilla latte?" he calls, looking around the small room for the person who ordered the drink. A guy with his hair tucked into a black beanie and his back to Yuta raises his hand.

As he goes to set down the drink next to the guy, the customary 'please take your time' on his tongue, he freezes when a pair of big, brown eyes blink up at him.

"I'll fight you if you spill that on me," Dongyoung says, curling his fingers around the glass and taking it out of Yuta's hands. "My pants are white this time."

It's been nearly two weeks since the first and last time the younger boy had been there and Yuta was pretty sure that NCT was another coffee shop on Dongyoung's list that he crossed off and didn't care to visit again. But there he is, laughing prettily behind his hand.

Yuta blinks stupidly, shutting his mouth and darting his tongue over his lips. "You came back...so you obviously don't care about your pants that much."

Dongyoung lifts his latte and sandwiches the rim of the glass between his lips. "Or maybe there was something to draw me back despite the threat to my pants." He averts his eyes and shrugs as he takes a sip, feigning nonchalance.

It probably would have been effective if not for the soft pink blush that spread over his cheeks.

Yuta smirks. "Some _thing_? Care to elaborate?"

Dongyoung gives him the stink-eye over top of the glass. "It's the brownie."

Raising an eyebrow, Yuta hums disbelievingly. "The brownie you didn't order? Sure, okay."

His heart flutters at the way Dongyoung's blush deepens and, yeah, he has to ask for his number before he leaves. He has to.

"I'll take my break early and bring you one later."

"I literally never asked for that," Dongyoung says, finally setting his glass down. He scrunches up his nose and pushes his lips out into the tiniest pout.

Yuta shrugs. "We're doing a special campaign today. For cute, hipster-lite boys who drink vanilla lattes with two pumps of raspberry sauce." Yuta shoots the younger boy a ~~greasy~~ charming wink and barks out a laugh that's much too loud when Dongyoung ' _ew_ 's and shoos him off with a wave of his hand.

 

Youngho rolls his eyes when Yuta wanders back over to the front counter with a goofy grin still plastered on his face. "You look stupid."

Sicheng finishes swirling whipped cream on top of a milk shake, not even looking up as he says, "He is stupid. Also, if I don't get a bonus for making him stay until you got here, I'm quitting."


End file.
